Am I The Only One?
by AlElizabeth
Summary: Wee!Chester AU. Sam and Dean are orphans. No one wants to adopt the brothers and Sam blames himself. It seems as though the boys will never have a family until one day Bobby and Karen Singer find them.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Dust In The Wind**

John Winchester looked down at his newborn son cradled in his wife's arms and smiled.

Mary tore her gaze away from the infant and turned her attention to her husband. Instead of appearing happy, the woman was frowning, her eyebrows knitted together.

"There… there's something wrong," she murmured tiredly, "John… I… don't feel so good…"

The father stared into his wife's face for a moment, noticing how white she had gone, how her blonde hair was plastered to her brow with sweat, how glassy her eyes were and turned to speak to one of the nurses still in the room when he saw the red stain of blood spreading out from between his wife's legs beneath the blue hospital blankets.

"Mary?" John said, confused for a moment before that bewilderment changed to panic, "Mary!"

A nurse, hearing the exclamation approached and gripped the father's arm, "Sir, you have to leave… you can't be in here right now…"

"Call Dr. Simpson back! Now!"

"Get him out of here!"

"We're losing her fast!"

John stared at his wife- at the nurses surrounding his wife- and was too stunned to fight against the pressure on his arm as he was guided out of the room and into the hallway.

"Mary!" he cried as the door slammed in his face, barring him from room where his wife and son were, "MARY!"

Running footsteps caught John's attention and he saw Mary's doctor sprinting down the hallway towards him.

"Doctor-" the father began, only to be ignored as the physician opened the door to the room and stepped inside without a word.

John paced the area in front of the door, every so often looking up, willing Dr. Simpson to come out and say that everything was going to be alright, that this kind of thing happened all the time, but he didn't and the father felt dread well up in his chest, as the minutes passed.

Something was very, very wrong. But what, John didn't know. He didn't understand. This was their second child. Their first son, Dean, had been born healthy and happy, and Mary had been perfectly fine, able to go home only a few hours after giving birth. There had been no complications with either mother or child but now…

The doctor will know what to do, John told himself, he'll stop the bleeding.

_W_

Time dragged on slowly and eventually John collapsed into one of the brown plastic chairs against the wall beside the door, head bowed and fingers twined in his black hair.

John's thoughts turned instead from his wife and newborn child to the son that was waiting for them at home. Just before Mary had gone into labour, John had called the babysitter who was watching Dean to check up on how things were going. The sitter, a girl who lived on their street, had told John that his four-year-old son had reluctantly gone to sleep after insisting he stay awake to see his Mom and Dad come home with his new baby brother. John had told the girl that they should be home by the morning. The sitter had said that would be fine and that she couldn't wait to see the baby as well.

John released his hold on his hair and fished in his pocket for his cell phone. He stared at the device for a long moment but decided not to call the sitter. He would wait until he heard from the doctor; maybe Mary would have to stay for a bit longer then expected and if that happened he would have to decide if he wanted to go home to relieve the sitter and check up on Dean.

The door to his wife's room opened and Dr. Simpson stepped out. John noticed the man had streaks of red on his scrubs and that he was not smiling in a relieved sort of way, in fact, he wasn't smiling at all.

The father stood up instantly, "Is Mary alright?"

Dr. Simpson shook his head sadly, "I'm sorry, John, but we couldn't stop the bleeding. She's gone."

John's mouth opened in shock and his knees threatened to give out.

"No," he whispered, tears filling his eyes, "No… she can't…"

Dr. Simpson took the father's arm and guided him back to the seat he had just vacated, "We tried everything. I'm terribly sorry."

John shook his head; he just couldn't believe it. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. Not in this day and age. Not to him… not to his wife.

"Would you like to go in and see her?" the doctor asked and John nodded, standing up, his eyes overflowing and tears streaming unchecked down his face.

Slowly, in a daze, John followed Dr. Simpson back inside the room and stared at his wife lying so still and quiet in the hospital bed. Mary's sweaty hair was fanned out around her head and her face was sickly pale but her eyes were closed and if John didn't know any better he'd think she was just sleeping, exhausted from the effort of labour.

Lurching towards the bed, John sank into the seat beside it and grabbed one of his wife's hands, noticing that it was still warm.

"M-Mary?" he choked, knowing that she wasn't going to reply, "Mary… Oh God… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

John didn't know what he was apologizing for but it didn't matter. Mary was not going to wake up. He lowered his head until his brow pressed against his wife's hand and he sobbed, everything around him seeming to vanish but for him and he grief.

_W_

"Would you like to hold him?"

John held his arms out numbly to accept his baby son and he stared down at the infant so pink and wrinkled, unaware that his mother, who had only had a chance to cradle him to her breast for a few moments, would never do so again.

The newborn opened his eyes and slowly gazed up at John. One tiny hand slipped out from beneath the blue blanket he was wrapped in and the father held out one finger, a pained grimace on his face as the child gripped the digit with his small fingers.

"What are you going to name him?" the nurse asked quietly.

John stared down at his son; "Mary and I were going to name him Samuel, after her father."

_SPN_

John frowned as he crossed the date off on the calendar that hung on the corkboard in the kitchen with a pen. It was hard to believe that six months had passed since his youngest son had been born and his wife had died.

John missed his wife fiercely and oftentimes wished Mary was there to help him look after their two young children but the single father somehow made it work. He took fewer hours at the auto repair shop he worked at so that he would be home more for his boys, especially for Sam when Dean was in Kindergarten during the days. His four-year old was a big help, eager to look after his baby brother, feeding Sam and playing with him. John relied heavily on his sons' pediatrician for advice and assistance with his youngest, with no female relatives he could ask and only having his experience with Dean to use as a guide.

Despite the loss of his wife, John thought he was doing alright. His sons seemed happy and secure and that was the most important thing.

The father smiled when he heard Dean laughing in the living room and he peeked in to see his four-year old sitting beside the blue blanket his six-month old was lying on, Sam lying on his belly, talking to his brother in baby-speech.

"Dee, dee, dee," the younger sibling cried happily, making his brother laugh.

"Say 'Daddy'," Dean instructed and Sam giggled before repeating the word, "Da, Da, Da."

Checking his watch, John saw that it was almost time for supper.

"Want to help me feed Sammy?" John asked his eldest, knowing what the answer would be, and smiling when Dean jumped up excitedly, "Yeah!"

The father moved into the room and picked up his youngest son, chuckling when Sam burbled happily, putting his small hands on John's cheeks.

"What do you feel like tonight, Sammy?" the father asked, "Carrots and peas?"

"Ba ba!" the baby squealed happily and John watched as Dean grabbed the bottled pureed vegetables from the refrigerator so his father could warm them up.

_W_

John sighed and sank onto the couch cushions. Both his sons were asleep and now he had a bit of time to watch television. Dinner had gone over well, Sammy loved vegetables more than any other food it seemed, even more then the rice cereal he'd eat in the mornings but was also really starting to enjoy the sweet potato and peaches John was offering too.

While Sam dined on pureed veggies, John and Dean had eaten leftover tuna casserole the receptionist at the auto repair shop had brought over a few days ago. Despite the fact that Mary had been gone for six months now, Irma Caravaggio insisted on bringing the Winchesters a prepared meal- casserole or lasagna- at least once a week. Instead of being irritated, as John might have been, he actually felt grateful that his co-worker still thought about them even after the initial death of his wife. Many of the friends who had come over to the house in the days and weeks since Mary's passing had failed to call or pop in as they had promised during the funeral. John knew that they had their own lives but it seemed as though now that Mary had been gone for some time, they no longer felt so inclined to check up on her husband and children.

After dinner the two brother had had baths and then Dean had watched a couple of hours of child-appropriate television, sitting beside his brother as Sam lay on his blanket on the floor, before they were both tucked into bed.

John flicked through the channels, trying to find something he could watch when the baby monitor sitting on the end table crackled to life.

Turning his attention away from the television, John frowned when he heard Sam fussing, whimpering and hoped that his son wouldn't start crying.

After a moment the six-month old quieted down again and John sighed with relief. Sometimes it took as long as an hour for Sam to be comfortable and relaxed enough to sleep at night and even then there was always the chance that he'd wake up minutes later, wanting to be held and cuddled.

The father turned his attention back to the television but froze when he heard a muffled voice coming from the monitor.

John turned to look at the device, frowning. He muted the volume on the TV and listened, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Maybe it's Dean again, John thought. His four-year old had a habit of going into his brother's room at night and talking to him when they both should have been sleeping but the father felt fear skitter across his chest like a large black spider as he listened.

The voice on the monitor, though indistinct, was definitely not one that belonged to a Kindergarten student.

"What the hell?" John said and stood, moving quickly to the stairs.

The father's heart pounded in his chest, hoping he was just hearing things, or that the baby monitor was just picking up some radio frequency- could that even happen- as he climbed the stairs. Once he reached the landing, he saw that Dean's door was shut tight and he instantly crossed the hallway to make sure his son wasn't in fact messing around in his brother's room. Pushing the door opened quietly, John could clearly make out the figure of his four-year old son beneath the Batman blanket on his bed.

Leaving the door ajar, John turned away from Dean's room and crept down the hallway towards Sam's bedroom, right beside the master bedroom.

The door was open slightly and John peered inside, adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream. The father's eyes widened in horror as he saw an adult-sized figure bending over his son's crib.

"Hey!" John flung opened the door and shouted, weaponless but feeling that paternal instinct to protect his child no matter what.

Sam started to cry at the suddenly loud shout but the figure did not move, did not even turn around.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" John demanded, hands clenched into fists, "Who are you?"

The figure turned slowly, and John startled at the sight of a man with lemon-yellow eyes.

"Now John," the stranger said in a quiet, calm voice, "You've woken the baby."

"How-" the father began but the breath was knocked out of him as he was slammed forcibly into the far wall hard enough to crack the plaster and began sliding upward, towards the ceiling.

_SPN_

Eric Nolan was one of the two firefighters to enter the Winchester home, searching for John and his two young sons who might still be alive in the blazing house.

Even with his helmet and over the crackle of fire, Eric could hear the sound of a baby shrieking and a child's voice crying.

Shit, the firefighter thought, please don't let us be too late.

Eric carefully climbed the stairs, motioning his team member to follow, and saw orange flames billowing out of a doorway at the far end of the hallway; the same doorway through with the terrified crying was coming from.

Eric's heart hammered in his chest, sweat dripping down his face as he thought about the two children and their father trapped in the flaming room.

Gesturing his partner to follow, the firefighter burst through the open doorway and into the nursery. Eric staggered to a stop, mouth gaping open. Flames consumed almost every inch of the room, tongues of fire were raining down from the ceiling, leaving only a few inches around a baby's crib untouched but it was clear that in minutes it too would be consumed as well as the two children with it.

"Where's the father?" Eric heard his partner ask but he ignored the question, there wasn't time to talk.

Darting across the room, the firefighter scooped up the four-year old who had been curled against the side of the crib and peered inside at the infant.

"We're gonna need an ambulance!" Eric shouted and motioned his team member over.

The other firefighter quickly picked up the younger child, swearing in sympathy as he did so and the two of them hurried from the room and out of the house as fast as possible.

**Author's Note:**

**The fanfic title comes from a song by the Barenaked Ladies.**

**Chapter title comes from a song by Kansas.**

**Please leave a review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Long Forgotten Sons**

Dean woke up before his brother. Instead of disturbing his sibling's sleep, the twelve-year old sat up on his elbows and watched Sam for a long moment, a smile on his lips.

The eight-year old's breathing was slow and shallow, calm, his eyes closed lightly and his brow sooth, telling Dean that he was dreaming peacefully.

A bell chimed out in the hallway, announcing that breakfast was ready and anyone who wanted to eat should get out of bed and head down to the kitchen before all the good items were gone.

Sam frowned in his sleep but didn't wake. Dean smiled. Now he could rouse his brother his own way. Reaching out, the twelve-year old poked his sibling's nose with the tip of his index finger.

Sam's eyes scrunched up and his brow furrowed but he didn't wake. Dean repeated the gesture, holding back a chuckle as Sam groaned and rolled over onto his back.

Grinning widely, Dean sat up and pounced on his brother, howling like a banshee.

"WAKEY-WAKEY EGGS N' BAKEY!"

Sam's eyes snapped up and he cried out in fear, only to realize it was only Dean and he began to giggle furiously.

"I'll give you something to laugh about!" Dean threatened and reached down to begin tickling his brother's ribs, sending Sam into fits of laughter.

"D-De-" Sam gasped, trying to catch his breath enough to speak, "St-Stop! Stop!"

Dean obliged his sibling and fell over, landing on his back beside Sam, breathing just as heavily as his brother.

"Breakfast's just started," Dean told Sam.

The eight-year old sat up and crawled over his sibling to get to the other side of the bed. The two beds had originally been on opposite sides of the room but Dean had pushed them together years ago so that he and Sam could sleep side-by-side and Ms. Norris hadn't told them to move the beds back so that was the way they remained, the younger brother always sleeping on the bed that had been pushed up right against the wall with Dean on the outside bed.

Sam went to the dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer, grabbing clean clothes. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing against the mattress as he listened to the quiet sounds of his brother changing out of his pajamas and into a pair of brown corduroy pants and a green, long-sleeved shirt.

Opening his eyes again when he felt the mattress dip down with his sibling's slight weight, Dean took his turn at changing into a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt.

"C'mon Short Stuff," Dean said and Sam followed him out of their room and into the hallway.

The twelve-year old saw that many of the doors to the other bedrooms were open and he began walking faster.

"If all the Frosted Flakes are gone…" he muttered mutinously, making his brother chuckle.

At the end of the hallway was a long, narrow staircase. The brothers headed down the stairs, Dean going first. Along the walls were pictures that the children living in the house had drawn, neatly framed, with their names and ages. Dean looked up at one his own little brother had drawn when he was about three or four and smiled. It showed him and Sam in a child's messy scrawl: Dean, only a round body drawn with orange crayon and stick arms and legs and huge dark brown eyes standing beside Sam, also represented as a circular, blue body with large green eyes, dwarfed in comparison to his big brother. A yellow circle of sun shone down on the Winchester brothers from one corner of the paper.

The brothers reached the main floor. One of the rooms on this floor was lovingly referred to as the 'Recreation Room' or, as the kids called it, 'Wreck Room'. It had a large room with a couple of couches, chairs, shelves of books for all ages, board games, a television set, toys of all sorts and even a Foosball table. It was one of the two largest rooms on the first floor, the second being the kitchen and dining area. The remainder of the rooms had become private offices that the children were not allowed to go into, except for Ms. Norris' office; she let kids come and visit her any time of the day and she always had candy for those who did.

Dean shoved open the double doors to the dining area and he and Sam were buffeted with a wave of sound; kids laughing, talking, and shouting. The twelve-year old made a beeline for the long, low counter cluttered with food items: there was muffins and fruit, yogurt, bread for toasting and miniature boxes of cereal that allowed for milk to be poured right into them. There were also jugs of milk, orange and apple juice and bottles of water.

Dean grabbed a small box of Frosted Flakes- the last one- and held it up triumphantly.

"Gotcha!" he cried, grinning as he glanced over his shoulder at a boy about his own age who was scowling, clearly also hoping for the sugarcoated cereal.

"Sorry, Aiden, you snooze you lose," Dean told the other boy who grudgingly picked up a banana instead.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean called to his brother who was standing in front of the bread, having trouble deciding what he wanted on it, "Make up your mind already. I'm starving."

Sam peered over his shoulder at his brother, grabbed a plate and slid two pieces of bread onto it to bring over to the toaster and snatched a couple of packets of grape jelly as well.

Dean followed his brother over to the toaster and waited impatiently, eager to eat breakfast. He reached over and grabbed a knife for his sibling so Sam could bring his toast to the table and then put the jelly on it

The brothers made their way over to an empty table and sat down, Dean tearing open his box of cereal and beginning to eat with gusto.

"Don't you want milk?" Sam asked quietly, concentrating on smearing the dark purple spread onto his toast.

Dean made a face, "No way, milk washes all the sugar off."

Sam just shrugged and continued what he was doing. Dean watched his sibling for a moment, chewing the crunchy cereal loudly. His little brother's shoulders were hunched and his hair was in his face, allowing only one green eye to peek through.

Dean's gaze traveled downward to his brother's hands as he watched Sam carefully hold the piece of toast in one and the knife in the other.

The twelve-year old jumped when someone sat down heavily at their table and he saw Sam flinch away from the person. Looking up, Dean saw it was Quentin and sighed. The boy was a year older then Dean and took great pleasure in poking fun at the fact that the Winchesters had yet to find a permanent home, never mind that Quentin himself had been sent from foster home to foster home for the past six years.

"Can't say I'm surprised to see you two still here," Quentin said, "What happened to the last place Ms. Norris put you in?"

"Go away, Quentin," Dean muttered, not looking at the older boy but at Sam.

"I know," the thirteen-year old announced nastily, "They couldn't stand looking at your fugly face!"

The comment was directed at Sam and although it was nothing new- Quentin really needed some fresh material if he was going to keep harassing the Winchesters- Dean's hackles raised all the same.

Standing suddenly, Dean rounded on the older boy, fuming.

"And what about you?" he snarled, "Did you drown their pet cat in the bathtub again? Oh, wait, I know, they sent you back here 'cause you're dumb as a pile of rocks!"

It was a low blow and Dean knew it but he would not sit by and let Sam be made fun of.

"Why you!" Quentin growled and grabbed the front of Dean's shirt, pulling his fist back to hit the twelve-year old.

"Dean!"

The older brother heard his sibling cry out and saw Sam reach forward towards him and Quentin. The reaction in the thirteen-year old was instantaneous, Quentin let go of Dean's shirt, shoving him away and cringed away from Sam as though he was the bearer of some contagious illness.

Quentin slunk away through the tables, lucky that he hadn't been noticed by any of the adults supervising breakfast.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah, Sammy," he smiled at his sibling, "Are you?"

The eight-year old nodded, his chestnut hair flopping over his face.

"Let's get out of here," Dean muttered and sat his cereal box on top of his brother's plate, carrying them to the garbage can, dumping the cardboard box into the trash and setting the plate and knife atop the can.

Taking his brother's hand, Dean led Sam out of the dining area, through the Wreck Room and into the spacious backyard. The brothers walked a few feet before Sam flopped down in the long grass, squinting up at the blue sky. Summer vacation had just started so the brothers had two full months to relax and goof around before school started up again.

Dean sat down beside his sibling, irritably pulling out large handfuls of grass as he thought about Quentin.

"It's not your fault," Dean said quietly, "You know that, right?"

Sam said nothing so his brother peered down at him. Sam was staring up at the sky, his green eyes wet.

"It's never your fault," Dean told him sternly, "Those people… they're just assholes."

The eight-year old didn't even react to his brother's swearing.

"All of them?" he whispered.

Dean sighed and lay down on his back beside his brother. It was a vicious cycle, it seemed; a family looking to foster some children would bring the brothers into their home for a while, sometimes as long as a month, but more often then not only for a few weeks- Dean was sure they had the record for being in a foster home for the length of a weekend- before they were taken back to the orphanage and Ms. Norris was told that 'it wasn't working out'.

"We'll find someone," Dean assured him, "Someday. We just have to be patient."

Sam sat up, leaning over his brother; Dean stared up at him.

"I don't think so," he said, "Out of all the foster homes we've been in… or couples looking for kids to adopt who come here… they always pass us by. Why? Because of me!"

"Sam-" Dean began but his brother shook his head.

"It's me, Dean," he insisted, tears welling up in his green eyes, "It's my face."

Sam roughly brushed his hair back and stared down at his sibling. Dean didn't even blink, and why would he? He had grown up with Sam, he was used to his little brother's face and really, it never even bothered him in the first place. It was just his brother; it was what Sam looked like.

The left side of his sibling's face was marred by scar tissue, pink and puckered, slightly shiny, it trailed from his temple all the way down one side of his neck. Sam's hands had also been scarred but it was those on his face that seemed to bother people the most, which was why he kept his hair long, so he could hide behind it. There were also smaller patches of scar tissue on Sam's chest and back but they were not as bad as the one on his face.

The doctors had done what they could but since the brothers were wards of the state and they didn't have a lot of money, expensive surgery was out of the question.

Dean had seen pictures of his baby brother when they had first come to the orphanage and to tell the truth, Sam looked a hell of a lot better now then he had following the fire that had killed their father.

"I think they're scared of me," Sam whispered and lay back down with a sad sigh, "I've seen them, they either stare or won't look me in the eye."

Dean blew a raspberry, "They're assholes, Sammy, like I said. Besides, I'm not scared of you. Neither is Ms. Norris."

Sam was quiet for a long moment, "Maybe Ms. Norris could adopt us?"

Dean snorted, knowing his brother was joking. Sure, Ms. Norris was nice and Dean liked her, he was certain she would adopt _every _kid who came through her door and so she seemed to have made the decision not to adopt any.

"Forget about them," Dean told his brother, "And forget about the other kids. Someday someone really special is going to walk through those doors and adopt us, you'll see. I promise you."

Sam sat up on his elbows, gazing at his brother, "You really think so?"

Dean smiled confidently, "I know so."

**Author's Note:**

**Chapter title comes from a song by Rise Against.**

**Thanks to jensensgirl3, BranchSuper, sarah, StyxxsOmega, SPN Mum, Frakking Toasters, mikeysrevenge, jannyverveer, SkyHighFan, Souless666, Souldarkalone, Kas3y, MysteryMadchen, SamDeanLover28, and Shannon Mikayla Smith for reviewing.**

**Sorry to all the readers who don't like 'permanent' injuries in Sam or Dean but I wanted a reason for people to not adopt the brothers, especially since babies, like Sam was when he and Dean were orphaned, usually get adopted quicker then older children.**

**Please leave a review and I'll try and update quickly.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face**

Karen reached out and placed one of her hands over her husband's as it gripped the old truck's steering wheel.

Bobby took his eyes away from the road for a moment and smiled at his wife.

"It's going to be okay," Karen assured her husband and Bobby nodded ever so slightly, turning his attention back to the highway.

Karen could hardly believe they were going to Kansas. She felt excitement bubbling up inside her. They were finally going to do it; they were going to adopt a child.

The journey that had led them to this had been a long and arduous one. Karen and Bobby had been high-school sweethearts and almost as soon as they were married, Karen wanted children. Her husband though, was less receptive to the idea. He wanted to wait until they had settled down a bit and Karen had obliged, taking a job as a waitress at a local restaurant while Bobby worked at the salvage yard he'd inherited from his father.

Years passed and Karen had tried off and on to conceive, despite Bobby's misgivings. It seemed as though that her husband's negative feelings about kids was having an affect on Karen as no matter how hard she tried, she could not get pregnant.

An anxious trip to the doctor's revealed the cause, Karen was infertile; she simply could not have children. Bobby was understanding, comforting his wife when she arrived back home in tears, feeling as though she was a failure, defective.

Karen resigned herself to the fact that she and Bobby would never have children, something she was certain secretly pleased her husband though he would never admit to, until she received a call from an old friend who had moved to California.

She told Karen of how she had adopted a little girl from an orphanage in San Francisco and said that if Karen was really serious about having a child, she should consider adoption.

As soon as Karen heard that she researched all the nearby orphanages, keeping it hidden from Bobby until just the right moment.

Bobby seemed surprised that Karen was considering adoption as an option but he still was reluctant.

"A junkyard is no place to raise a kid."

"We're not getting any younger, you and I, do we really want a kiddie running around?"

"Do you know how long it actually takes to adopt?"

But Karen was ready for her husband's excuses:

The junkyard was no more dangerous as any other home as long as they kept an eye on the child.

Bobby made it seem as though they were senior citizens. People were choosing to have children later in life so why couldn't they adopt later in life too?

Despite the fact that adoption could take months or even years to finalize, the result was worth it.

Karen wasn't a stupid woman. She knew that Bobby hadn't wanted children of his own because he was afraid of turning into his father. If they adopted, however, her husband would have to worry about that. Besides, Bobby didn't drink very often anyway; perhaps concerned he'd end up liking it a little too much.

"You enjoy helping people, right?" Karen had asked her husband, wheedling.

"Yeah," Bobby had answered warily.

"Then what better way to help a child in need of a family then to adopt?" Karen had asked, remembering to give her husband a doe-eyed look, just for good measure.

"Fine," Bobby had relented, "We'll go to whatever orphanage you want and we'll _look_, okay? I'm not making any promises."

Karen had just smiled knowingly.

After a short discussion the Singers had decided that they wanted to adopt a little girl. Bobby had been all for that idea and Karen had only had her mother when she had been growing up so having another woman in the house would be nice again.

"How do I let you con me into these things?" Bobby asked her now as they passed the sign welcoming them to Wichita, Kansas.

The Brighter Days House was a state-run orphanage in Wichita that had once been a Victorian mansion. Karen didn't know if it was the allure of the old manse or the promising name of the orphanage but she was drawn to it as soon as she had pulled up the website on the computer. The orphanage was grey- not a very happy colour- with a black roof with white gables and large windows with blue curtains. It's interior was more homey and friendly-looking then the outside. There was a large game room, kitchen and small, quaint bedrooms. The backyard had a big sandbox, a jungle gym, and a swing set for the children. The director of the orphanage, a Ms. Janet Norris, looked like a very nice woman with an easy smile and relaxed posture; not like the strict, old matron Karen had imagined as running The Better Days House.

Karen had spoken briefly to Ms. Norris on the phone, to set up an appointment and give the woman a little bit of information about herself and her husband- the rest could be discussed today- and the woman had been very kind, assuring Karen her that there were many girls at the orphanage looking for a permanent home.

"There it is!" Karen cried out excitedly, reaching out to grip Bobby's arm as she saw the top of the orphanage's roof over the crest of the hill they had yet to climb.

_SPN_

Two days before the Singers started their seven and a half hour drive to the Better Days House, Dean managed to get himself grounded. It hadn't even been his fault. Quentin and a couple of his friends had started it.

Sam and his brother had been playing checkers quietly in the Wreck Room- it was raining so everyone had to stay indoors- when Dean had felt the call of nature and had gone to the bathroom relieve himself.

Quentin and two of his closer friends- Jerry and Ivan- had taken advantage of Dean's absence and pounced on Sam.

The checkerboard went flying, clattering to the floor, the red and black pieces skittering and rolling away, as Sam was shoved onto his back by the two bigger boys, Quentin wielding a pair of scissors from the 'Art's and Craft's Table'. The scissors, designed for children and dull enough so that they wouldn't cut skin or clothes, cut hair however as readily as they would paper.

Quentin loomed over Sam, scissors in hand and a malicious gleam in his eye.

"I think it's time you had a haircut, Freak," he taunted, "So that everyone can see your face."

Sam struggled helplessly as Quentin grabbed a handful of Sam's hair in his fist and brought the open scissors towards it.

Dean, who had just entered the Wreck Room, saw everything and ran forwards, jumping on Quentin's back and wrapped his arms around the older boy's throat.

Quentin reared back, stumbling, the scissors falling harmlessly to the floor. Jerry and Ivan released Sam, calling out for an adult.

"Dean!" Sam cried out as Ms. Norris herself came running, her eyes wide at the sight before her.

"Dean Winchester!"

Everyone seemed to freeze at the sound of that voice. Normally Ms. Norris was a very sweet, kind lady but she hated any kind of violence and was not afraid to raise her voice when she needed to.

"Boys," she said sternly, taking in Dean, Quentin, Jerry and Ivan, "In my office. Now."

Sam stood up, still shaken from the attack and began to follow but was stopped by Ms. Norris' hand on his shoulder, "Not you, Sam."

He looked up at the woman, "It wasn't Dean's fault."

Ms. Norris' mouth was pursed into a thin, pale line- like a scar cut across her face- and she nodded stiffly, "He'll have a chance to tell his side of the story."

_W_

Sam waited impatiently outside of Ms. Norris' office for his brother to appear. It seemed as though Dean was in there forever. Quentin and his friends had left the office ages ago and now only Dean remained.

Sam jumped when the door swung open and Dean slouched out.

"Dean!" Sam cried and wrapped his arms around his brother's middle, hugging him tightly.

"Did you get into trouble?" Sam asked anxiously and Dean nodded.

"I'm grounded for a week," the twelve-year old said glumly.

"Why? It was Quentin and-" Dean interrupted his sibling, "Ms. Norris only saw me. Don't worry, Short Stuff, those guys didn't get away empty-handed. They've lost their Wreck Room privileges for three days."

Sam frowned, his brow furrowed, "Maybe if I tell Ms. Norris what-"

Dean shook his head, "I told her, Sammy. But it didn't help. She saw me trying to strangle Quentin and that was it."

Sam looked down, "What am I going to do?"

Dean crouched down and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Hey, just because I'm grounded doesn't me we still can't hang out."

Sam nodded and smiled a little.

"I better get upstairs," Dean muttered, "Ms. Norris said my sentence starts immediately."

Sam followed his brother upstairs to where the bedrooms were and sat down beside him on the edge of Dean's bed. Dean had been grounded before but never for a week, the most time he had served before was two days, now he seemed to be going for a record with seven days.

Dean wouldn't be allowed out of the bedroom except to use the bathroom and to get something to eat- oh, and for one hour a day outside- but with Sammy, it wouldn't be so bad.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said, "For saving me."

His brother smiled, "Hey, that's what I do. I'm here to protect you."

"That was kind of cool how you jumped on Quentin," Sam said with a wry smile, "The look on his face!"

Sam couldn't help but giggle. Of course Dean hadn't actually been trying to choke the older boy, he'd only wanted Quentin to get away from Sam.

"Maybe he'll think next before he decides to pick on you again," Dean muttered hopefully.

_W_

Sam stared at the colourful pages of the superman comic book he was holding, not really reading it. He was in the Wreck Room, sitting on one of the cushy chairs in the 'Library' area, bored because Dean still had five days of being grounded.

Sam looked up when he saw someone approach him from the periphery of his vision. It was one of the new kids, a little boy of about three or four, Sam thought his name was Colin or Connor or something like that.

The younger child had his thumb in his mouth and he was staring at Sam, wide-eyed.

The eight-year old put the comic aside and smiled. He didn't really mind the little kids so much, they would ask him about his scars but he'd just say that he'd been hurt when he was a baby and that seemed to satisfy them, they just wanted to know why and once they had the answer that was the end of it.

Sam watched as Colin (or Connor) held one hand out and tapped him on the knee, turning quickly on his heels after doing so, nearly falling over at the same time, and ran across the room. Frowning, Sam looked up to where the little kid was running and saw Quentin standing in the doorway of the Wreck Room, encouraging the Kindergartener over. Since Quentin still had one more day of being banned from the Wreck Room, he'd apparently found a loophole that allowed him to continue tormenting Sam without actually setting foot in the Recreation Room.

Sam sighed and slipped off the chair, crossing the room slowly, leaving through the far door, the one closer to the staircase and hoped Quentin wouldn't follow.

He was lucky and the older boy didn't continue to harass him as he made his way upstairs. He shoved open the door and flopped down on the bed beside his brother. Dean looked up but said nothing.

"Why'd you have to go get grounded?" Sam grumbled.

"Didn't do it on purpose, Sammy," Dean replied, stretching and sat up against the bed's headboard, "Have only two days really passed? I feel like I'm going to go crazy in here."

Sam sighed and his gaze swept across the stack of comic books- mostly featuring Batman- that stood by the bed.

"Maybe Ms. Norris will let you out early," Sam suggested hopefully, "You know, for good behaviour?"

Dean chuckled and ruffled his brother's hair, "Yeah, maybe."

"Quentin's getting the little kids in on it now," Sam muttered and Dean frowned.

"What?"

Sam nodded, "One came up to me, touched my knee and ran away like Quentin had dared him to do it."

"You should tell Ms. Norris," Dean advised seriously.

Sam sighed. He knew he should tell Ms. Norris or one of the other adults but he didn't want to be labeled a Tattletale as well as a Freak.

"I'm serious, Sammy," Dean insisted, as though he knew exactly what his brother was thinking, "If it gets worse, tell her."

Sam nodded and promised he would. Dean smiled and gave him a tight hug, telling him he should go back downstairs before anyone came looking for him.

"I'll see you at lunch," Dean assured his brother and Sam nodded, slipping out the door and heading back down to the Wreck Room again.

_SPN_

"It's even bigger than in the pictures," Karen said as she stared at the Victorian mansion while Bobby parked the car in the lot marked 'Visitors'.

"Looks like something the Addam's family would live in," her husband commented, "And we are _not _adopting Wednesday."

Karen chuckled and unbuckled her seatbelt, opening the car door even before the vehicle had stopped. The weather was bright and sunny, a beautiful warm July day. Karen smiled as she heard the sounds of children's laughter wafting towards them on the wind from the backyard.

She reached out and took Bobby's hand squeezing tightly, anxious and excited at the same time.

"Thank you," she whispered to her husband and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Bobby smiled, but spoke gruffly, "Don't go thanking me just yet, woman."

The Singers walked up the front porch of the house and Bobby pulled the door open for his wife. At the far end of the entrance hall was a large cherry wood desk with a young woman sitting behind it. She looked up as the husband and wife stepped inside.

"Good morning," she greeted, "Do you have an appointment or are you here to pick up?"

"We've got an appointment," Bobby told her as he and Karen approached the desk, "With a Ms. Norris?"

The receptionist looked down at her computer screen, typing for a moment before returning her gaze to them and smiling, "Singer?"

They nodded.

"Ms. Norris will be with you shortly," she told them, "Would you like to have a seat?"

Karen and Bobby sank into the chairs against a wall covered with old-fashioned flowered wallpaper, peering curiously around the entranceway. The original hardwood floor remained, with a long grey speckled rug running from the doorway all the way to the receptionist's desk. The walls were painted a light, cheerful blue with pictures of smiling boys and girls who had found permanent homes hanging on both sides of the hall.

Karen sat quietly for a moment, hands twisted in her lap, anxious, when the sound of children coming from a nearby room caught her attention. The woman leaned forward, trying to catch sight of the youth but she couldn't. Standing, Karen began to follow the sound, drawn towards it.

"Karen," Bobby hissed but she ignored her husband, "Karen!"

She stepped into a large room with two worn, comfortable-looking couches, a half-dozen mismatched chairs, an old television set and a Foosball table. There were shelves against the walls containing board games and toys. Karen swept her eyes across the room and spied a low, rectangular table where five girls who looked to be around six-years old were sitting, chatting as they drew on scrap paper with Crayons.

Karen smiled and made to move forward, to join the seated girls when she caught sight of another child from the corner of her eye. He looked to be about seven or eight-years old, with long brown hair that was almost dark enough to be black. He was sitting at the foot of one of the chairs, a superman action figure in his hands.

Instead of moving towards the little girls, even though she had always wanted a daughter, Karen found herself drawn towards that solitary boy.

Karen crouched down beside the child and smiled. The boy looked up and Karen's eyes widened ever so slightly. He had the greenest eyes she had ever seen.

"Is Superman your favourite hero?" Karen asked and the child nodded, "Uh huh."

"I'm Karen," the woman said and the boy didn't answer but that was alright.

"Why is he your favourite?" Karen asked and the boy bit his lip for a second before speaking again, "He's super strong and he can fly and he's an alien the planet Krypton."

The woman looked pensive, "That is pretty cool, isn't it?"

The boy nodded and smiled.

"Karen!" the woman sighed and peered over her shoulder, "Karen!"

"I have to go," Karen said, "It was nice to meet you."

The woman stood and left the room, following her husband's voice. Karen smiled when she saw Bobby and the woman standing beside him, no doubt Ms. Janet Norris.

"Hello," Ms. Norris said, "I'm Janet Norris."

"Karen Singer," Karen greeted and shook hands with Ms. Norris.

"Let's go to my office where we can speak more privately."

The Singers followed the woman to her office and sat down in the two chairs seated across from her desk. Karen noticed that there was a plastic bin with toys in one corner of the office and there were children's drawings on the walls. Janet took a seat, placing a bundle of manila folders onto her desk. She had long red hair and blue eyes, a round, pleasant face and a mouth that was used to smiling.

"Karen," Ms. Norris began, "Your husband was saying that you were interested in adopting a little girl? We don't have any infants right now but-"

"What about that little boy with green eyes?" Karen interrupted, causing Janet to frown.

The other woman frowned, clearly trying to think of whom Karen was speaking about.

"He has long brown hair?" Karen offered and Janet's eyes grew round.

"Oh! That must have been Sammy!" Ms. Norris exclaimed.

Karen nodded and smiled, "I'd like to know more about him."

Janet didn't return the gesture, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Mrs. Singer insisted, "He was adorable… A sweet little boy."

"Karen," Bobby drew his wife's attention and leaned towards her, "I thought you wanted to see about adopting a girl."

Karen looked at her husband and Bobby swore under his breath, "Balls."

Karen smiled. The expression on her face was the same one she gave Bobby when she wanted something and would not rest until she got it.

"What can you tell me about him?" Karen asked Janet and watched as the woman stood and took a new folder from the grey filing cabinet behind her desk.

"Sam Winchester has been here since he was six months old," Janet explained, "Sam eight now and his older brother, Dean, is twelve."

Karen nodded leaning forward. She noticed the way Ms. Norris was speaking, as though she wasn't sure if she was being genuine or not.

Janet opened the boys' folder and pulled out a couple of school photographs, taken just the past year. Dean sat grinning confidently. Karen saw he had short, sandy-brown hair, hazel eyes and a spattering of freckles across his upper cheeks and nose. Sam's chestnut hair was flopped down in front of his face, covering it like a curtain so that just one green eye peeked though, unlike his brother, he wasn't smiling.

"They're orphans," Janet continued, "Their mother died shortly after giving birth to Sam and their father was killed in a house fire six months later."

Karen glanced down at the pictures of the boys.

"That's awful," she muttered. Bobby reached out and put a hand on her arm.

"Why weren't they adopted?" she asked, "If Sam was still a baby? Was it because Dean was already older?"

Janet shook her head, "I wish that was the case. Sam was injured in the fire that killed his father, he suffered burns on his face, neck, hands, back and chest."

Karen peered down at another photograph Ms. Norris pulled out of the folder: Sam was younger in this one, maybe about five or six. His hair wasn't as long as it was now and most of his face was not concealed from view. Karen gasped at the shiny, red scars that marred one side of the child's face and neck.

Karen felt Bobby's hand tighten on her arm but she didn't look at him, she couldn't take her eyes away from that little boy's face.

"My predecessor, Mrs. Fairbanks, had a family interested in adopting Dean while little Sammy was still in the hospital. He might have been able to go home with a loving family but when Dean realized Sammy wasn't coming too, he started screaming and crying as though someone was ripping his soul out," Janet said sadly, "The family decided to leave Dean and 'think about it'. They ended up adopting another little boy instead."

"So Sam and Dean have been here all that time?" Karen asked.

Janet smiled wanly, "They've been in and out of foster homes but they always come back."

Karen glanced down at the pictures of the two Winchester boys for a long time. She knew Bobby didn't want a little boy, much less two of them, but after hearing about everything they had been through, from their mother and father's death, to Sam's injuries suffered in the fire and being shuffled to and from foster care for the past eight years, Karen could care less what her husband wanted.

"Bobby," Karen looked up into her husband's grey eyes, "We have to adopt them."

She turned to Janet, "We have to."

Ms. Norris' eyes widened, "Really?"

Karen nodded, "Yes."

She stood, "I can't wait to tell them!"

"Wait!" Janet exclaimed and Karen froze, staring that the other woman, "Why don't you wait until everything is settled? It could take a while for the paperwork to go through."

"Alright," Bobby's wife said and sat down again.

"Karen," her husband said quietly, "Are you sure you want to do this? Adopting two boys?"

Karen looked at him, "I know this wasn't what we had planned but-"

Bobby reached out and put his hand on hers, "We'll talk about this later, alright?"

"I can get the paperwork started," Janet said and smiled at the Singers.

Bobby and Karen stood, shook hands with Ms. Norris and walked out of the office.

Karen went ahead of her husband and peered into the room where she had first seen Sam Winchester, unfortunately, the little boy was gone. Karen frowned, a bit sad, but knew that she would see him again.

**Author's Note:**

**Chapter title comes from a song by Roberta Flack of the same name.**

**Thanks to soaring freedom, Trucklady53, jannyverveer, mikeysrevenge, Sylvie91, MysteryMadchen, SSAEmilyEaster, SamDeanLover28, Kas3y, jensensgirl3, StyxxsOmega, need2no, pryde23, BranchSuper, Wholocked221, Souldarkalone, SPN Mum, Souless666 and Guest for reviewing.**

**Please take a moment and leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Dream Brother**

"Dean! Dean, you'll never believe what just happened!"

Sam called out to his brother as he tore up the staircase, throwing up the bedroom door and jumping onto the bed where Dean was lounging.

"What Sammy?" Dean asked, sitting up and staring at his brother's excited expression.

"There was this lady and she was really nice and she talked to me and she looked at me and didn't even-" Sam began only to be interrupted by his brother.

"She probably just didn't see your scars, Sam."

The eight-year old's eyes widened and he stared at his brother in shock.

"Dean… you said… you said a special family was going to come and take us home," Sam argued, his green eyes wet and wide.

"I know what I said, Sammy," Dean muttered, "But you have to be realistic."

Sam sat up and stared at his brother, stunned.

"Maybe she's different from the others," he argued, feeling his eyes welling up with tears.

Dean's expression, instead of turning sympathetic, became angry, "Why don't you grow up? No one's going to adopt us! We're going to stay here for the rest of our lives!"

Sam's tears overflowed and spilled down his cheeks. He slid off the bed and backed away from his brother. Why was Dean being so mean? Hadn't he said that one day some special family was going to adopt them? Why was he saying these things now?

"Sam!" Dean called, making as though to get off the bed and follow him, "Come back!"

Sam turned and ran from the room, crying.

_SPN_

"Are you sure you want to do this, Karen?" Bobby asked as they drove away from the Better Days House.

The woman nodded, "Yes, I want to adopt those two boys."

Bobby pursed his lips, "Do you think that's a good idea?"

Karen stared at her husband for a long moment.

"Why would it be a bad idea?"

"Well, they're not exactly babies," Bobby said, "Eight and twelve and you haven't even met the older one."

Karen frowned at her husband, "Older children have a harder time getting adopted, Bobby, and they need love just as much as a baby does."

Bobby sighed deeply, "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

Karen shook her head, "Nope."

"Honey," she said and reached out to put her hand on Bobby's wrist, "If ever you've trusted me with anything, trust me with this."

Her husband nodded, "Alright. Alright. We can see how this goes."

Karen smiled, "I know everything will work out for the best."

_SPN_

The screen door slapped shut behind Sam as he ran out into the backyard, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

There were a few of the younger kids playing in the yard, climbing on the jungle gym but Sam ignored them. Instead, he made his way to the large maple tree at the edge of the yard and began climbing up its rough trunk, swinging himself up to the first, thick branch and sat with his legs dangling along either side.

Sam reached down and gripped the branch with both hands, breathing heavily and trying to calm himself. It was a warm day with a slight breeze that tousled the tree's green leaves, the sound soothing.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned back, resting against the maple's sturdy trunk. Dean could say what he liked. He hadn't seen the woman, hadn't spoken to her. Sam knew she was different from the others and maybe… just maybe she would come back and take both of them away and they'd finally have a real family.

_W_

When the bell rang to announce the beginning of lunch, Sam jumped down from his perch and walked slowly back inside, watching the little kids race squealing towards the doors.

He wasn't really hungry but he knew if Dean was with him he would insist Sam eat something.

Stepping into the dining room, Sam saw that macaroni and cheese was on the menu today, along with an ordinary green salad- barely touched- and garlic bread.

The scent of the warm meal made the eight-year old's stomach growl in anticipation and Sam stepped into line behind a little kid who was hopping up and down impatiently.

Glancing around the hall, Sam spied his brother sitting at their usual table, his plate piled high with macaroni and two large pieces of garlic toast. Sam smirked; Dean wouldn't eat vegetables if they were the only food left on the planet.

"Hey!" an angry voice interrupted, "Hurry up, kid."

Shaking his head, Sam moved forward quickly; while he'd been looking for Dean, the line had moved on without him. Sam was a little surprised no one had cut in front of him but he guessed there were too many adults around to do that.

Grabbing a plate, Sam took some salad and macaroni, ignoring the bread, before heading towards the table where Dean sat.

"Hey," the twelve-year old said quietly, looking up with a sheepish expression.

"Hi," Sam replied and sat down across from him before beginning to eat.

"Sammy," Dean said but Sam didn't look up, he kept his gaze focused on his lunch.

"I'm sorry about earlier," his brother apologized, "I didn't mean it, really."

Sam nodded but continued eating.

"It's just… I don't want you to be disappointed," Dean said, "I don't want you to get your hopes up and then you find out this lady decides to adopt some other kid."

"Okay, Dean," Sam muttered through a mouthful of salad, "You're right."

The twelve-year old grew quiet and the brothers ate in silence for a few moments before a female voice called out the elder sibling's name.

Sam looked up to see Ms. Norris approaching their table.

"Uh... hi Ms. Norris," Dean greeted uncertainly.

The woman said 'hello' and sat down beside Sam.

"Dean," she said, "I may have gone a little overboard the other day, grounding you for a week-"

The woman paused as a smile began to spread across Dean's face.

"I want to make myself very clear though," she said sternly and Dean's smile faltered a little, "I will not have you hurting any of the other children here for whatever reason."

The twelve-year old lowered his gaze, "Yes, Ma'am."

"After lunch you're free," Ms. Norris told him, smiling again, "Just don't let me catch you doing something like that again."

Dean nodded eagerly, "I won't!"

Ms. Norris turned to look at Sam, "Next time any of the other students are picking on you, come tell me."

Now it was Sam's turn to look down. He nodded and told her that he would.

"Good," Ms. Norris said with finality and stood, "Enjoy the rest of your lunch."

Dean stared after the woman as she walked away, his mouth half-open to display semi-chewed macaroni and cheese. Sam giggled at his brother's expression before shoveling a mouthful of lettuce into his mouth.

The twelve-year old scowled at him, "How can you eat that junk? It's practically rabbit food."

The eight-year old shrugged, "I like it and it's good for me. Maybe if you ate more salad you'd get taller."

Dean eyed his sibling, "Oh, and you're the Jolly Green Giant are you? You're shorter than I am, Shrimp!"

Sam slowly ate another mouthful of salad, making exaggerated sounds of pleasure, "One day I'm gonna be tall! You'll see! I will 'cause I eat all the vegetables and you'll be teeny tiny short!"

Dean snorted and speared some macaroni and cheese onto his fork, "Yeah, like that'll ever happen."

_SPN_

Karen couldn't wait to start preparing for the Winchester boys' arrival. Twenty minutes after returning home Bobby found his wife staring intently at the guest bedroom at the top of the stairs. The room was mostly disused except for when Karen's mother came to visit during Thanksgiving and Christmas, something that was happening less and less as the elderly lady was becoming more frail.

"Karen?" Bobby asked, "What're you doing?"

"They'll need a room of their own when they get here," Karen replied distractedly.

Bobby grimaced, "Hon, we don't even know if we'll be able to adopt them."

The mechanic realized he'd just spoken the wrong words. Karen turned to him, her blue eyes hard.

"If you don't want to adopt then say it! Don't beat around the bush!"

Bobby's mouth opened in shock, "I don't have a problem adopting… those boys but don't you think you're getting ahead of yourself?"

Karen frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I want those two boys to feel welcome as soon as they arrive," she told her husband, "They should have their own room, not feel like they're being stuffed into some dusty old guest bedroom because we couldn't be bothered to change it around."

"What about your mother?" Bobby asked.

His wife sighed, "Mom's getting too old to make the trip out here every year. Even if she does come for the holidays this year I think it'll be the last time."

Bobby nodded, his eyes unexpectedly prickling at tears. Karen's mother was a wonderful lady; she loved Bobby like he was her own son and never made him feel as though he wasn't good enough for her daughter, something he'd been fearful of when he'd started dating Karen back when he'd first met her at the same diner she still worked at just out of high school.

Although Sioux Falls wasn't as large as most cities, it was bigger than the tiny Oregon hamlet Karen had come from. Eager to see the larger world, the eighteen-year old had left her mother's house and taken a bus all the way out to Sioux Falls. She hadn't really intended on staying in Sioux Falls, wanting to go further east to New York or Boston but she needed money and so Karen had gotten a job as a waitress at a local diner. Bobby Singer, longtime resident of Sioux Falls and also fresh out of high school, had fallen in love with Karen the moment he met her… and the rest, as they say, is history.

Bobby smiled, "Alright, let me know what you want to do and I'll help you make it possible."

His wife's frown melted and she leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek, making him grimace- he hated when she did that- before making her way downstairs, talking all the way.

"We have to repaint the walls, beige just isn't going to do it," Karen called back as Bobby followed her, "I'm thinking blue… yes, blue for a boy's room. And that old bedspread has to go…"

_SPN_

After lunch Sam and Dean headed outside, the twelve-year old feeling way to claustrophobic inside. They raced to the big maple- Dean won- before laying down on the cool grass shaded by its massive trunk and myriad branches, panting.

Dean sat up against the tree's rough trunk, one arm behind his head and stared up at the maple's green leaves waving lazily in the breeze. Sam lay with his head resting on his brother's belly, legs straight out in front of himself.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean murmured.

"Yeah?" his brother replied, turning his head slightly to look at him.

"Can you tell me about this lady who talked to you?"

Dean wasn't sure his brother would want to tell him about the woman now- not after his reaction- but to his surprise Sam started talking.

"She was really pretty," he began, "She had blonde hair and blue eyes… kind of like Mom."

Dean smiled sadly. He remembered their mother vaguely- he had only been four when she had passed away- but the one thing that always stuck in his memory was his mother's wavy, golden blonde hair and blue eyes.

When Sam had been younger he'd love hearing about their parents from Dean; it comforted him somehow, to know what his mother and father had looked like, had acted like, even though didn't remember them at all. He knew some kids at the house who didn't know anything about their parents and he found that very sad, not to know where you came from at all. Sometimes, if Sam were feeling particularly bad, often after he and Dean were sent back to the Better Days House from their foster home, he would imagine his own parents walking through the doors, looking for them. Mary and John would be spies for the government and they'd had to fake their deaths to keep the bad guys from getting them but now they were able to take their sons back. Sam imagined going on adventures with his parents to exotic lands and despite the threat of the 'bad guys' they would always be happy because they were together and nothing would tear them apart again.

"She likes Superman the best," Sam told his brother with a smile and Dean groaned, "No way! Batman's way better!"

Sam was quiet for a moment before talking again, "I hope you're wrong, Dean, and she really does want to adopt us. I don't want to go to anymore foster homes."

Dean lifted his head to peer down at his brother, a lump in his throat, "I hope I'm wrong, too, Sammy."

_W_

Dean idly watched the smaller children playing at the jungle gym for a while. Sam had fallen asleep; his breathing slow and steady, so Dean let him be.

As the twelve-year old lounged, he thought about finally having a permanent home. It wasn't that Dean didn't want to get adopted, it was just that he and Sam had been at the orphanage for so long it seemed as though no one would ever want them. Deciding that he wasn't going to hold his breath any longer and wait for the perfect family to appear and take him and his brother away, the older Winchester boy had told himself that no one was going to adopt and it made him feel a little better every time they were passed over for a different kid. If Dean didn't expect to get adopted, he couldn't be disappointed.

Sam was different. He always held onto the hope that someday, someone would come along and see past his scars and adopt him and Dean. Dean loved his brother's optimism but he hated that Sam's dream continued to be unfulfilled.

But maybe… just maybe… Sam was right this time. Dean hoped so, for his brother's sake. He didn't know how many more times his brother could take rejection.

**Author's Note:**

**Chapter title comes from a Jeff Buckley song of the same name.**

**Thanks to general yumi, mikeysrevenge, BonanzaRocks, kasey123, Trucklady53, SPN Mum, Freya922, SamDeanLover28, d767468, jannyverveer, SSAEmilyEaster, babyreaper, Souless666, sammygirl1963, angel1718, Kas3y, neko-jiin72, BranchSuper, StyxxsOmega, Souldarkalone, CatastrophicCarnival and Guest for reviewing.**

**Please a review, you lovely readers and I'll try and update soon!**


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